


The Holiest of Sins

by GwenChan



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Angel/Demon Relationship, Blasphemy, Bondage, Cock Rings, Complicated Relationships, M/M, Marathon Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-10
Updated: 2021-03-10
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:13:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29965506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GwenChan/pseuds/GwenChan
Summary: An Incubus fucks an Angel. It's not the first time. It won't be the last.
Relationships: England/France (Hetalia)
Kudos: 19





	The Holiest of Sins

The old jukebox stops on the same note again, screeching with a high and unpleasant sound that cuts through the penumbra of a shitty, abandoned club.  
A place of sin and perdition, it still pulsates with the power of all lost souls who transited here. The shadow of past lust impregnates everything, its delicious scent the strongest and a godsend for an incubus  
Francis loves it. Of course, Francis is not his real name. A prince of hell would never lower himself to take a simple human name as his. This is a persona he adopted long ago when he first started to mingle with humans and it simply stuck 

This abandoned club is his favourite place in the whole area. He only regrets not having discovered it when the place was still active and in a full frenzy; when the sin came from the living flesh and not from a memory.  
It makes one wonder how strong it must have been, given the power of just its shadow.   
It didn't take long before Francis claimed it as one of his domain, a place where an incubus can flourish and where an angel of the Lord can little.

Nonetheless, this specific angel continues to put up a fight even after having been stained. From a Power, Francis wouldn't expect anything else. It's what makes it even more pleasing, watching Arthur being fierce and untamed and wandering how far he can go before breaking. It's inevitable.

Oh, despite the appearances, it isn't the first time Arthur tasted the forbidden fruit and engaged with someone of the cursed race in certain activities, far from it. Enough to taste the lie in his reluctance as much as in his so-proclaimed faith. 

It only took a bite.

Subduing Arthur this time is easy, a give away of hie deep he has fallen already, his put-up fight only a mask born from pride. As if he hadn't been the one who searched for him. 

Even if Francis wished so, an incubus can't overwhelm a Power if the angel decides against it. By conscious will or unconscious desire, this is happening only because Arthur allows it. He could burn Francis demonic flesh with holy fire if he just as much as he wished so. 

He won't. Not now, half-naked and shivering under Francis' expert touch. In centuries of encounters, he learnt exactly all the points where a light caress is enough to turn Arthur into malleable putty. 

It's hard to believe this angel has been the terror of demons in the great war, an unstoppable, fearless soldier.

With his back pressed against the dirty wall, knees buckling so much it's a wonder how he can stand, now he's harmless. The devil magic with which Francis has bound his hands above his head is more for show. Even unbounded, Arthur won't escape. He would've already.

He hasn't escaped in centuries.

On his knees, mouth deliciously full, Francis thinks his choice to pursue Arthur has been the best he made in a long while 

Human lovers can be a nice diversion, light meals to satisfy a constant hunger, but they're nothing compared with an angel when they fall prey to their own, forgotten lust.

"Francis ... you ... oh, fuck, fuck, fuck," 

Arthur swears just as Francis takes a little more of his hard cock down into his throat with natural ease. Gag reflexes are no concern for an incubus. He was made to do this, by the Lord will, long before he fell from the graces of Heaven.   
Delighting in the warmth of Arthur's cock on his tongue, Francis takes his time. The longest the time to deliver, the sweetest the final price.   
Watching Arthur fall apart piece by piece only adds to it all. 

Curling his tail around one of Arthur's legs in tantalising caresses, Francis pulls back enough to twirl his tongue around his cock. A long, snake-like tongue, made exactly for that, long enough to inhumanly wrap from base to tip and squeeze.

Arthur whimpers softly, and Francis doesn't need to look up to know he's desperately biting down on his lips to stop his voice from screaming the truth of his pleasure. But he doesn't want to just imagine.   
When Francs lets go of Arthur's cock, he does it with the most obscene of sounds.

"It's useless but I like when you try," Francis purrs, tilting his head enough to admire the mess Arthur already is. His wings have sprouted at the sides of his body, spreading wide with their cream colour, a surprise given how far gone in this Arthur already is. Francis can't take it as anything but a silent invitation to continue, a challenge he is certainly going to win. Yet, a part of him smirks with cruel and evil satisfaction, remembering how blindingly white Arthur’s wings used to be.

He doesn't let Arthur time to recover, swallowing again his length with the exact amount of pressure. He licks and sucks methodically, before pressing the bifurcated tip of his tongue onto a specific nerve.  
The effect is immediate, Arthur's celestial cries reverberating in the room. Him who by birth who should only worship God, is screaming his pleas to another, darker divinity  
He'll hate himself for that. He'll loathe every fibre of his being, new nourishment for others demons, desperately searching for an outlet for his frustration till the circle will close again and he'll discover he has no way to go but right into Francis' waiting arms. It's an old routine, a tie going stronger each time they meet. 

Francis smiles with lustful darkness around Arthur's cock just before deep-throating him one more time. With another cry, Arthur snaps his hips forward. He'd fall on the floor if it weren't for Francis's hands curled around his thighs to keep him in place. He sucks him as his tails slither up Arthur’s leg till the tip brushes against Arthur’s entrance. Francis penetrates him only a little in time with his head bobbing up and down, anticipating the feast.

With a high-pitched moan, Arthur’s body coils before relaxing and flooding down Francis’ throat with his burning semen. Its taste is delicious, divine, one of which Francis could never get tired of. He milks Arthur dry to the last drop before letting him go.

Spent and drained, Arthur tumbles onto the dirty floor the moment Francis stops sustaining him with his weight. Half-sitting on his back, the red of sin and shame tints this human flesh he decided to wear. Sometimes Francis still wonders why Arthur choose to assume the characteristics of a human male, but he’s not complaining. Peaking from the hem of Arthur’s short tunic, his cock is already tenting the fabric again, a show of the power of an incubus. 

Here, he can make Arthur hard as many times as he wants and it’s precisely what he does, adding a cock ring of dark magic as one last touch.

“Did you think we were done,” he murmurs with heavy sultriness, pushing Arthur fully down onto the floor and grabbing his legs to expose his ass. 

  
Other tendrils of magic block his wrists onto the floor and hang his ankles to the ceiling. They are strong, enough to resist a Power, provided the Power doesn’t call a little more magic than usual.  
Nonetheless, Francis can feel the pressure of Arthur’s strength underneath as he fights against the restraints when he spreads his asscheeks to dive his long tongue into his quivering hole and right to his sweet spot. 

The reaction is immediate, even more than what Francis expected. Yelling in surprise, Arthur's back arches abruptly from the floor, so much he almost dislodges Francis in the process. 

The incubus only calls for new magic to wrap around his lover's torso. While he adores every one of his reactions - the stronger, the better - he finds it tiring in the long run when his lover keeps moving, even when that is just another proof of his submission to his ministrations.

Once Francis deems Arthur sufficiently bounds, he returns to slowly fuck him. While less thick, an incubus tongue can easily match a cock in length. Not exploiting it would be the real sin. The only downside is not being able to see the growing turmoil on Arthur’s face each time Francis curls his tongue right to his prostate with enough strength to make him come if it wasn’t for the cock ring. His curses and screams are a good give-away. 

“Ugh, shut up … I’m going to - fuck, oh good G-“

His voice dies on the blasphemy, a sign he's sufficiently present to not surpass that limit, for Francis’ dismay. Apparently, he’s not fucking him hard enough. There will be time, the night is still long.

For now, he slowly retreats his tongue lest Arthur comes dry, which would be a waste. Then, he’s quick to substitute his tongue with his fingers and swallow the angel’s cock. Freeing him from the ring, he swallows Arthur through his new orgasm. He takes his come till he’s drunk on it.

“I will kill you,” Arthur snarls through gritted teeth, growling for the loss of Francis's mouth on his cock.

“You won’t,” Francis replies, lazily, his tail twitching like his cock still constricted in his pants. “You would have already. A long time ago,” he points out, watching his tail lightly wrapping around Arthur's nipple almost of its own volition. 

“You like this.” The incubus sets between the angel’s spread legs to bend till they are chest against chest. He whispers in the angel’ ear, slowly tracing the shell, careful to not hurt his delicate skin with his horns. It would be a pity.

“No matter how much you insist on denying it. You want this. You crave and love this,” Francis whispers, lowering to lick Arthur’s sweaty throat, applying the faintest trace of pressure.

“You’re mine and you wanted to -“  
“I told you to sh - fuck.”  
Arthur's order breaks onto another curse when Francis takes his half-hard cock in hand and begins pumping without a warning. Arthur’s body responds immediately, his cock seemed made to adapt to Francis’ curled hand. 

“Yes," Francis praises, watching Arthur’s body fight against the chains to press into his palm. "Yes. See. It’s evident.”  
He whispers it, a breath from the angel’s lips. In response, Arthur tries to bite him, a bold gesture that makes Francis chuckle in his throat. He was beginning to worry for Arthur, considering him to docile for his standards. His Arthur always fights.

He’d kill him too if he ever hears Francis call him “his”.

“I will ... ugh, kill you,” Arthur gasps but for different reasons, “I will severe your head and hang your horns in my bedroom as a trophy"

“Yes, yes, you said that already.”

When never deliver, a threat loses its impact after a while. It took Francis sometime to understand it, but Arthur’s threats are these, only empty words, as far as he’s concerned. It’s his silly way to pretend a last glimpse of holiness. 

Maybe, he’s right. Despite all the times they lay together, he is still an angel and not a fallen one. 

An angel screaming the name of a Prince of Hell as he spills hot into Francis’ hand. 

Tongue flickering across his lips, Francis licks his come from his fingers till they are shining clean. Coming back from his orgasm-haze, Arthur glares at him with fire in his eyes.   
"Don't look at me like that," Francis protests, faking offence for how the angel stares at him, filled with hatred. "You are free to go whenever you want."  
He also takes a couple of steps back from where Arthur is lying to underline the fact. "I surely am not stopping you," he insists, lifting his hands.  
"Oh and these came from nowhere," Arthur spits, muscles tensing against the restraints without breaking one. "If you truly mean what you said, free me yourself."  
The sick logic of an angel, pretending not having been able to choose  
to put the responsibility for their actions onto someone else.  
"You can free yourself," Francis retorts, "easily. We both know that."  
"I can't. Not here. There's too much sin."  
Indeed, Arthur's halo is duller than his usual flare but it’s there and he is not a simple, lower guardian angel. He’s equipped to fight and kill demons on the borders of Hell.  
“You can,” Francis insists and waits, challenging. For Arthur to use his power to free himself now would mean admitting he could’ve done it at any time and so before he has no one to blame but him for his sin. 

"Untie me," Arthur asks again, eyes burning with loathing, "Let me turn. I don't want to see your face when you fuck me."  
"But you will let me fuck you," Francis points out, his voice lowering on the hypocrisy of Arthur's request.   
Yet, he considers it, he truly does. He can't deny having Arthur on all fours, his ass in the air, bound and ready to be taken is quite the image. It almost makes Francis drool just thinking about it.

But watching Arthur as he fucks him, seeing the moment in which he surrenders, that is an even greater delight. 

"No," he says, with a light shrug, that single word dripping with indolence.  
"What do you mean no?"   
"I will not untie you. I told you, you are free to untie yourself if you really want."  
If Arthur would glare more, he'd burn him. "I will kill you," he repeats, turning his head to the side and squeezing his eyes shut. The gesture would almost fill Francis with something akin to remorse if Arthur hadn’t done it times before, always never using his strength to get away, so much it has become a negligible detail  
Francis can concede that to the angel’s pride.

"I think I will fuck you now," he announces, a useless specification, given they talked about it seconds ago.   
"Yes, you said that already."  
"Well, I was just informing you since you have your eyes closed."

Arthur shuts them tighter. The restraints cut and sizzle against his skin, the proof of his barely controlled power and lust. He doesn’t open them even when a new ring closes at the base of his cock. 

"To keep you from coming too soon," he anticipates Arthur's protests. Then, he repositions Arthur's legs to rest on his shoulders before aligning himself with his ass.   
Francis goes slow, pressing only the tip of his cock inside. Arthur tenses immediately. Despite having been worked open before by Francis' tongue, his hole it's still too tight to take the cock of an incubus.  
Luckily for him, Francis is not in a hurry. Hands gripping Arthur's sides, he pushes inside a little more then waits, till he begins to feel the angel relaxing around him.  
It does it again and again, one centimetre at a time.

"Oh fuck, put that inside me already," Arthur groans, eyes still closed, an unforeseen but not unwelcomed development. 

"Almost there, dear," Francis hums, shifting on his knees to find a better angle, all while half-way buried inside Arthur's ass. Arthur contracts around him, desperately trying to pull him inside.

Francis, however, knows better. He has no interest in a rough fuck if that results in a broken lover. Even when his lover is an angel with inhuman strength and a healing factor.

It must be only minutes when finally Francis' cock gets completely engulfed by Arthur's flesh, but no doubt they felt like hours.

With one last push, he penetrates him to the hilt. His calves contracting around Francis's head, Arthur moans as his eyes shut open.

Inevitably locking gazes, there's so much in them. The usual loathing, and the growing lust and buried underneath something softer, whispers of the real, unnamed reason why they keep circling back to each other.

Francis fucks Arthur with a tenderness many consider unsuited for a sex demon. He uses his hips to pull himself almost all out before rolling inside again, the way that always makes Arthur groan in frustration.

He'd like this to be faster, rougher and more violent. In all the years, Francis hasn't yet decided if the angel hopes to find a certain absolution if Francis takes him by force or if he simply enjoys rough sex. 

So Francis, self-centred like all demons must be, takes his time. He'll go slow, make Arthur mad with desire, burning with it.

Then, something snaps. Next thing Francis knows, he is being pushed on his back and tasting the burst of holy flames, as Arthur free from his bounds clenches around him. His wings open to their full extension around him, now tinted a vague ochre. 

Finally. 

Francis bursts into a loud, dark laugh. This is what he wanted and this is what always happens, sooner or later.

It's only a pity Arthur lasts so little, the cock ring gone like the rest of the chords. He climaxes hard across Francis' chest, who grins lazily at the sight. He drinks the moment, trying to impress every single detail in his memory for future usage; the angle of Arthur's wings, the fire in his light and his human appearance flickering to show glimpses of his real form underneath.

"What's the matter with you?"

"I was just admiring you, love. And you are welcome to continue. You know how much I love being ridden by you."

One more reason to not do that

Arthur says, but he cannot deny his previous action and the hypocrisy only adds to it.

Indeed I think I could leave you here," he threatens. Francis lets him, snapping his fingers - lazily, grinning viciously before Arthur's hardening cock.

"You were saying?"

"You did this on purpose," Arthur spits, his anger unable to hide his desire.

!Sorry. I thought this is what you wanted. And you are free to leave."

He can continue to ride him and come again or he can return to Heavens.  
Being filled with lust for the doing of an incubus and leaving, knowing well only the incubus can fix that, must be a strange, masochist way to amend, but a way nonetheless. It is what someone holy is supposed to do when faced with sin and temptation, running from it till it eventually disappears or fighting with it forever. 

“You will pay for this,” Arthur states, voice filled with a venom that has little of holy, but impales himself onto Francis’ cock to the hilt. It takes all of the demon's little self-control to not drain Arthur of his life force there and then. Instead, he uses his strength to roll his hips up and meet his lover’s movements. Again and again.

It isn’t long before Arthur throws his head back, opens his wings and comes, overcome by pleasure. Still unsatisfied, Francis makes him hard immediately after. They do this three times before he can come too, releasing inside the angel’s ass with a lustful, carny growl, rejoicing from the image of his demonic seed staining the angel's flesh. 

He doesn’t pull out afterwards. Well, Arthur doesn’t and when Francis tries to stand up, he blocks him. Francis smirks, wondering, the simple fact of his cock being in Arthur’s ass sufficient to harden him already. 

This time, he doesn’t use his power on Arthur. Deep down, he knows some pity.   
“You’re still hard,” Arthur notes, voice cool.  
“It’s what you do to me, darling.”  
“Do you say that to all those you fuck?”  
"You know the answer."

Arthur rolls his eyes, his pale chest rising with a deep sigh and his feathers puffing. He stays there for a while, in deep reflection, always using his strength so that Francis can do nothing but wait too. That same strength he refuses to use moments before.  
Soon, he's sure this is some sort of angelic vengeance. He opens his mouth to protest, and as he does, Arthur gets up. He stands on wobbly legs, releasing Francis cock. He falls on his four afterwards, quite elegantly, his back forming an enticing arc to his pale and already abused ass. If Francis wasn’t hard before, now he is

“So? Do you plan to take all night?” Arthur looks from above his shoulders, in an invitation that Francis is almost tempted to refuse only to spite him. Almost. 

With a low growl, he grabs Arthur's hips enough to leave a bruise and drives into him without further hesitation. He bends over him so that his chest plaster onto the angel's sweaty back till he is grazing fangs across the ivory of his neck. He doesn't bit, though, pressing his tongue just below the jaw to taste him there, feel the vein pulsating at the rhythm of all the blood pumped across his body.   
He sucks there, lightly, but Arthur outright moans, his whole body oversensitive from his previous orgasms.  
Still, it's nothing yo when Francis, in a surge of inspiration, nibbles at his feathers. Arthur shakes, violently.  
"Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh God," he screams his blasphemy with a voice so filthy and needy it travels right to Francis' cock.  
He comes with a cry, his dark wings uncurling on his back. 

Time loses meaning after that, stretched into the eternity of their lust. 

But this too, like all pleasures is destined to end. 

Silently, coming down from the heights of his desire and tasting the consequent shame, Arthur folds his wings back and unrolls his tunic to hide his now soft cock, a modesty Francis cannot and will never share or understand. He watches with intent, waiting for the angel to say something.

“This will not happen again.”

Francis tilts his head, his horns shining in the dawning light. He nods with a dark, knowing smirk. He could almost believe Arthur. He could almost believe his resolution and his will to never sin again.  
But a thousand times they have been together and. in his lover's belief, Francis knows they will be a thousand more.

**Author's Note:**

> Sometimes I write tragic angst, sometimes poetic stuff and sometimes filthy, filthy porn.
> 
> Wrote for the COWT challenge on Lande di Fandom. Inspired by the Achille Lauro monologue, especially these verses (Nuovo tempio notturno del giovane e del proibito; demone, divinità; jukebox pieno di chiudi; uragano dei desideri sessuali).


End file.
